


The Krusty Krab's Employee First Aid Clause

by IncurablePeppermint



Category: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon)
Genre: First Aid, Gen, It's written as genfic/friendfic but it could be read as slashfic I guess, Minor Injuries, Workplace, krusty krab
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 18:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19011013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncurablePeppermint/pseuds/IncurablePeppermint
Summary: According to the Employee Handbook, Krusty Krab employees are required to help other employees when injuries occur. Squidward has not read the Employee Handbook.





	The Krusty Krab's Employee First Aid Clause

“Spongebob, three more kelpy krab combo meals!” Squidward yells back through the square porthole behind the register. Mr. Krab’s new menu innovation has been incredibly popular. One day he saw a customer stack kelp fries on a burger, the next day he demanded Spongebob stuff kelp fries inside the patty itself. And Spongebob sure enough figured out how to stuff a wet meaty disc with fresh fries, keep them crispy, and fry it over again to seal the kelp inside the ground meat. All so Mr. Krabs could double charge customers for five more little strips of kelp and an extra trip to the frier. 

Squidward rolls his eyes before opening up a dance magazine. Of course there’s an article on Squilliam. Some nonsense about an “Undersea Bachata revolution” that he’s apparently leading. Despite already leading the undersea clarinet revolution, the undersea home decor revolution, and the undersea monobrow revolution. Disgusting. Squidward turns to page twenty four to hate-read the article. 

Then, suddenly, a loud scream interrupts him. The shock of it makes him rip the page. He would be angrier if he hadn’t inadvertently ripped  Squilliam’s smug head right off of his shoulders. He gives the magazine a nasal little chuckle before turning to look through the porthole. “Spongebob, what was that about? We have customers for you to deal with.”

Spongebob stands a few steps away from the fryer, holding a cooked basket of patties and hyperventilating. “Sorry Squidward,” he manages between short, strained breaths, “I seem to have... Splashed some oil on myself.” He forces out a nervous laugh and slowly sets the basket down on a metal preparation table, careful not to touch the hot metal to the meltable plastic condiment bottles.

Squidward looks away with some slight guilt. Maybe he shouldn’t assume every stupid noise he hears from the kitchen is just some nonsense that Spongebob has cooked up. Even though most of the time it  _ is _ just some nonsense. Right now the little guy actually managed to hurt himself. And probably because of Krab’s ridiculous new menu option. It can’t be safe to deep fry greasy burgers in oil, especially on such a tight fast-food schedule. 

He leans down and opens up a compartment in his cashier station to pull out a first-aid kit. “Hold on, Spongebob. I’ll be right there.” He calls back into the kitchen before exiting his station and walking into the back. He gets a kick out of ignoring a customer who was just walking up by popping a sign reading _Back in 5_ _or I’m Fired_ sign on the cash register. 

He catches Spongebob holding his hand dangerously close to the grease burn that Squidward can now spot on his cheek. “Don’t touch that,” he demands, sounding bored even as he sets opens up the first aid kit and checks the supplies. Expired itch cream. Used napkins tied together instead of gauze. Squidward rolls his eyes. “Go to the sink and put some cool water on that.”

“Cold water, got it.” Spongebob dutifully heads to the sink, even though he is clearly still freaked out by the ordeal.

“ _ Cool _ water, Spongebob. Cold water will make it worse.”

“Cool water! Okay!”

Squidward shakes his head. He goes back to hunting through the Krusty Krab company first aid kit for anything useful. Basic pain reliever, not expired, has  _ Old Man Jenkins _ written on the cap. Well, at least it’s real medicine that probably didn’t come from the Barg’n-Mart’s dumpster. And as an added bonus it’s actually helpful for this kind of injury. More helpful than greasy napkins, at least. 

“Alright, directions say... Metazoans take two every four hours.” Squidward turns to Spongebob, then groans. Spongebob is still just testing the water. “Spongebob. You need to get that washed off.”

“But what if the water is too cold?” he gasps, “Or too hot! Can it be too hot? This is so much pressure Squidward.”

“If you don’t rinse it off soon you’ll get a worse burn just from the oil sitting on your face.” Squidward walks over, cups a tentacle to get some water, then pours it slowly onto Spongebob’s mild burn. Spongebob initially flinches but does his best to stay still. Despite anything and everything the little guy still trusts Squidward with his life. Squidward feels a slight pull in his chest, but ignores it and grabs Old Man Jenkins’ discarded painkillers. 

“Two of these,” he says with a clinical tone. 

Spongebob nods and does as he’s told. “Thanks Squidward. I’m already feeling much better.” 

Squidward shrugs and walks over to the fryer basket Spongebob set aside earlier. “There’s uh... Just a clause in the Employee handbook about first aid,” he insists, covering for his own small act of altruism. He doesn’t exactly want Spongebob to show up on his doorstep because he did the annoying yellow square one little favor. “You’ve gotta do something to keep yourself further from the frier. This handle can’t be up to code.” He turns to Spongebob and points at the handle. Spongebob is staring at him with big, wet eyes. “What? What is it now?”

“Squidward... You’ve never read the handbook.”

“So what?”

“So you didn’t come back here because of the rules, you came back here because you care about me!”

“No! No, no, no. This was a purely professional interaction. I’m going back to the register.”

Squidward grabs the practically useless first aid kit and storms back to the front of the store. A small line has built up at his station. He groans. Taking his sweet, sweet time, Squidward returns the sign and the kit to their compartments in his cashier station before stepping in and staring at the first customer. He doesn’t great them, letting them awkwardly sweat out the heavy silence between them before deciding to order without prompting. 


End file.
